


All Hallows Eve

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team and omega goes undercover to stop the aliens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hallows Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Our Favorite Things #10, Elaine and Anne Batterby editors, and reprinted in Green Floating Weirdness #18 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"And_ try _to look normal."_

 

          The computer beeped, clicked, whirred and finally chirped out the requested information as Norton Drake's fingers rapidly tapped out an elaborate code guaranteed   to yield results.

          "There!" he announced, drawing the attention of the remaining three Project members, who milled anxiously around the basement computer work station.

          "Where?" Ironhorse asked, trying to elbow past Blackwood before the astrophysicist was firmly ensconced over the hacker's shoulder.

          "If I'm not mistaken – and I rarely am – that transmission is coming from…"  Drake poked a single key and the monitor screen redrew itself into a map of a section of San Diego.  "Yep… Sea World!"

          "Sea World?" Blackwood and Ironhorse chorused.

          Suzanne grinned and nearly giggled when the two men glared at each other – Rambo and the Wacky Professor.  "What could the aliens possibly want at Sea World?" she asked innocently.

          "Maybe they've developed a taste for sushi," Drake suggested, keeping his gaze carefully focused on the computer screen so his grin remained hidden from the two men at his back.

          Blackwood gave Drake a disgusted scowl.  "That's _not_ funny, Norton.  Besides, most of the major exhibits include marine _mammals_ , and God only knows what the aliens might want with them.  Their mass might make them targets for an alien takeover."

          "You don't think this could be related to Adrian's work, do you?" Suzanne asked, moving closer to the trio crouched over the computer, which worked furiously to pinpoint the transmissions inside the Sea World complex.

          "It's a possibility," Ironhorse said, stepping back with a frustrated snort.  Blackwood wasn't budging and he couldn't see a damned thing.

          "Okay, these guys are long winded.  It looks like the transmissions are coming from the parking lot, and someplace inside the park itself," Drake added.

          "We have to get down there – now," Blackwood announced, straightening and heading for the stairs at a brisk pace.

          "Whoa, wait a sec, Doc," Norton called to halt him.  "What's today?"

          "October thirtieth," Ironhorse immediately supplied, his forehead creasing.  "What's your point, Mr. Drake?"

          "If I remember my TV commercials, this is Sea Worlds' Halloween weekend, big guy.  And you know what that means, don't you?"

          "Halloween weekend?" Blackwood questioned, pacing back to the hacker and leaning over the man.  "I don't see the connection, Norton.  There's no telling what the aliens might be doing to those animals.  We—"

          "Doc, the commercials said that park was _only_ open to people _in costume_.  If you're gonna save the fish, you'd better be dressed like fishermen… or something."

          Suzanne nodded.  "That's right!  Debi commented on it, asking if we could go."

          "So we go in costume!" Blackwood bellowed, striding for the stairs.  "But let's just get moving!"

          "I'll go in uniform," Ironhorse said as he followed the retreating astrophysicist.

          "Wait a minute!" Suzanne called, hurrying to catch the pair on the stairs.  "I don't think that's such a good idea, Colonel."

          "Why not?"

          "I don't think the park people are going to like the guns," she said, giving Ironhorse an indulgent pat on the shoulder as she brushed past him and headed up the stairs.

          The soldier thought for a moment.  "She's probably right, and the aliens might be spooked.  Fine, I'll have Omega pick up something less conspicuous on the way to meet the choppers at Ft. Streeter.  Let's go, Doctor!"  He slapped Blackwood on the back and pressed past him.

          Drake listened as the threesome headed out, shaking his head.  Debi might forgive them – in a few years.  With a grin he wondered what sort of costumes the soldiers would find the day before Halloween.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The Omega Squad exited the large transport they'd procured at the Naval Air Station where they'd landed after the short flight down the coast.  The immense parking lot at Sea World was crowded, but no one seemed interested in the six soldiers as they put the finishing touches on their ensembles.  Thank God the marines hadn't seen them in these get-ups!

          "Coleman, you're _sure_ this was all they had left?" Derriman asked suspiciously as he tugged at the ample cloth at his waist, trying to decide if the baggy shirt should be pulled down tight or bloused over the six-inch wide belt he was wearing.

          "I don't know, Sarge," Goodson, the squad's medic, interrupted.  "Mine sort of fits."  He grinned, half of his freckles disappearing into dimples as he pointed to the embroidered name over his left pocket.  "You can still call me Doc!"

          Norah Coleman leveled Derriman with an icy blue stare.  "John, do you honestly think I'd pick these if there was an alternative?" she asked, pulling tight the wide belt that held up her baggy pants and wiggling her toes further into the pointed ends of her soft, knee-high lace-up boots.  At least the garments hid their weapons and equipment, but she had to work hard to ignore the color combinations or they made her slightly queasy.

          "I guess not," Derriman drawled, trying not to grin as Matthews and Peterson pulled on the bright floppy pointed hats that completed the get-ups.  "But I can't wait t' hear what the Colonel has to say about it."

          "Sergeant!"

          "Uh-oh," Coleman breathed, involuntarily cringing.  She'd been with Omega Squad for less than a month and from the sound of it she wasn't going to last the day.

          Stavrakos, finishing with the chartreuse bows on his boots, stood and pulled the door to the van closed.  "Uh-oh is right," he muttered.

          "Derriman," Ironhorse growled as he stormed around the end of the van.  "Whose idea was—?"  He stopped short as the six-man unit of highly trained, elite, Special Forces soldiers burst into wild laughter.  Black eyes, narrowing dangerously as the muscles along his jaws pulsated, quelled the laughter to a few nervous chuckles.  Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse was _not_ amused.

          "I'm sorry, sir, these were all the costume shop had left," Coleman explained, her voice squeaking occasionally.  "They only rent them out as a set, which is why they still had them left.  We have a spare, the witch's—"

          "Follow me, people," Ironhorse hissed, pivoting sharply and sending the end of his matching long floppy hat sailing out behind him in a graceful arc and accompanying jangle.  "And _try_ to look normal."

          "We'll give it our best…" Derriman replied dryly, pulling his own floppy hat down tighter and adding, "Sir."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne and Blackwood climbed out of a second borrowed van where they and Ironhorse had dressed.  Harrison pulled the door closed, then gazed appreciatively at his companion.  The low scoop-neck of the light, lacy gown presented an acutely feminine picture of Suzanne unfamiliar to the astrophysicist, but one he thought he might get used to.  She looked fine indeed.

          Together the pair cut a regal picture as "handsome prince" and "princess."  A soft shuffling and the soldiers emerged out of the mass of cars, trucks and mini-vans to join them.  Suzanne's hand rose to cover her mouth as she fought back a smile.  "You all look… amazing," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

          "If we could just go, people?" Ironhorse grumbled, gesturing toward the entrance.

          Suzanne curtsied sweetly and led the way.

          "Cranky, Colonel?" Blackwood questioned, not bothering to hide his amusement at Ironhorse's ire – or his attire.

          "It's Grumpy, Doctor," the colonel hissed, tapping his costume's embroidered name.  "I wouldn't want you to blow my cover."  He marched off, the rest of Omega Squad trailing behind him in single file.

          "Prince" Blackwood jogged to catch up to Snow Suzanne White and fell into step beside her.  "We're being followed," he whispered.

          "I know," she replied in kind, catching sight of the Next Generation bridge crew from the Starship Enterprise as they exited from a large van and headed toward the entrance.  "But I doubt anyone's going to notice."

          Harrison grinned at the microbiologist, then began to whistle.

          Derriman's voice picked up the tune and echoed from the rear, "Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Robin Hood, Maid Marion and several of the merry men – who had obviously been imbibing fermented liquid refreshment – bowed as Blackwood and Suzanne passed.  As the "dwarfs" followed, the fair maid Marion reached out to bat the fuzzy ball and bell dangling at the tip of Grumpy's hat.

          With a strained smile, Ironhorse bowed and sidestepped the forward lass, trying to ignore her inviting look and call, "I can cure the grumpies, fair sir."

          After a quick survey of the area, Ironhorse led them to a small pavilion that was relatively unoccupied except for three Smurfs, who apparently couldn't stand the competition seven dwarfs presented and left in a huff.  The Colonel watched them go with a smug smile.

          "Okay, people," he said tersely.  "We're going to have to split up to cover the park.  Work in pairs.  Use your Geiger counters, and keep alert for anything out of the ordinary."

          "Begging the Colonel's pardon, sir," Stavrakos said, picking at the tassel on the end of his hat.  "But everything here looks a little out of the ordinary."  To punctuate his claim, he nodded to a well-endowed female centaur accompanied by two women dressed up like Old West cowboys as they strolled into the pavilion.

          "Neigh, neigh," Peterson said, appreciation of the centaur's bodice – or lack thereof – clear in his voice.  No one missed the apple (with a bite missing) resting in her cleavage.

          The larger of the two "cowboys" leveled Peterson with a playful, if warning look, while the she-horse smiled broadly.  "Careful, Mister, this here's _my_ mare," the cowboy drawled.

          Peterson raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and the threesome continued on, the buxom equus tossing her long auburn mane and tugging a string that swished the matching long tail.  "Giddy-up," she cooed at the soldier.

          Ironhorse fought back a smile.  Under the right circumstances a visit here at Halloween could be very enjoyable.  "I realize the situation is a little… out of the ordinary, people.  Use your gut, and if you have any doubts, call for backup."

          The Omegans all nodded, the bells on their hats tinkling in an off-key chorus.  Derriman opened a copy of the park map and grinned.  "Sleazy, uh, Sneezy, you and Happy check out the seals and sea lions," he instructed Peterson and Matthews in his best "sergeant's voice."

          Clearing his throat, Derriman continued.  "Doc, you and Bashful check the dolphins and the killer whales."

          Goodson smiled and patted Coleman's shoulder.  "Come on, Bash, let go see the big fishies."

          "Mammals," she corrected as they left.

          "Bashful?" Blackwood asked when the pretty sergeant was out of sight, lost in the crowd-deco.

          "It was the only outfit that would fit," Derriman explained.  "Guess Dopey and I will take the sharks and little fishies.  Good luck, Grumpy… uh, sir."

          "Derriman, get your Sleepy ass out of here before I—"

          "Oh, by the way, sir, that leaves the penguins for you and the royal couple."

          "Right.  The pen—?" Ironhorse muttered, turning away before he caught the joke – just because he hadn't know what the hell Penguins Frozen Yorgert was, and naturally assumed that Blackwood and the others had unnatural plans for one of the poor birds… blended penguins for God's sake?  He sighed.  _Some things they never forget_.  He snapped around, but it was too late; Sleepy and Dopey were gone.

          Suzanne and Harrison roared.

          "Come on, Grumpy," Blackwood said, slapping Ironhorse's back and heading off.  "You'll enjoy the birds."

          Ironhorse quickly caught the man.  "Behind me, Doctor.  Just in case.  And we're not here to enjoy the birds."

          "But, Paul," Snow Suzanne White said.  "We all know how you like penguins…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Waiting for King Arthur and several of his knights to make their way past the glass walls of the penguin exhibit, Ironhorse carefully scanned the crowd passing by on the slow moving conveyer just below and in front of them.  Jack and Jill inched by, necking and ignoring the penguins – not that the birds noticed.  Batman and his friends, Superman and Wonder Woman, passed a neon-green water bottle back and forth, the liquid sloshing lower and lower, while Roger Rabbit coveted it from a discrete distance – obviously not kryptonite.

          No wonder this is such a wild night, Ironhorse thought.  The officials have given up trying to inspect all the containers coming into the park.

          The Colonel pulled in a deep breath.  Nothing _felt_ out of place – he'd given up judging anything from a visual perspective.  Shifting his feet, he reached down to scratch beneath the top of his knee-high soft felt boots, only to have Miss Muffit pat his tuffit.  He lurched forward and bumped into the Incredible Hulk – all 250 green pounds of him.

          "Excuse me," Ironhorse muttered to the glaring mass of neon masculinity, stepping closer to Blackwood and Suzanne.

          The Hulk growled.

          "Doctor, do you think we can—"  A click from Ironhorse's radio halted his comment.  He fished it out of his baggy shirt and raised the instrument to his mouth, trying to look inconspicuous.  "Ironhorse," he said softly.

          "Colonel," Coleman said.  "We have something at the dolphin pens."

          "We're on the way."  He nodded at the Hulk, who backed off, assuming Ironhorse was part of park security.  Paul wasted no time and motioned for Harrison and Suzanne to exit.  The threesome stepped onto the conveyor, riding it to the exit. Once outside, he keyed the mike a second time.  "Derriman."

          "Derriman, here."

          "Dolphin pens," the Colonel said.

          "Roger."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse eased around a corner at the upper end of the main dolphin arena and spotted Coleman and Goodson crouched behind the top row of seats.  He motioned for Blackwood and Suzanne to join him, and the threesome made their way over to the soldiers, crab walking to avoid being seen.  Below them, three of the bridge crew from the Enterprise were working over an electrical box used for the PA system in the arena.

          "Report," Ironhorse whispered.

          "We spotted these guys hanging around after a show.  They've got sores and they're hot on the Geiger counter, sir," Coleman said.

          "Good work," Ironhorse whispered, watching as the three aliens continued to work over the equipment while the remaining three stood watch.  He keyed the mike. "Peterson, any activity?"

          "Negative, sir."

          "Report to the main dolphin arena.  Cover the west side."

          "Roger.  Team 1, main dolphins, west."

          "Affirmative, and the aliens have blended with _Star Trek_ characters."

          There was a momentary pause.  "Classic or Next Generation, sir?" Peterson asked.

          Ironhorse looked momentarily confused before Blackwood supplied, "Next Gen."

          "Next Gen," Ironhorse repeated into the radio.

          "Roger.  I hope they don't have Worf with 'em," was the reply.

          "Colonel, Team 3 at the arena," Derriman's voice filtered over the radio.

          "Roger, Team 3.  Take a position on the east side."  Ironhorse looked over at Coleman and Goodson.  "Stay here, I'm going to see if there's a way out behind that backdrop."

          Coleman nodded.  "Be careful, sir."

          One eyebrow rose slightly.  "That's how I've lived long enough to get grumpy, Sergeant," he informed her, signaling the two civilians to follow.

          Once they were safely back outside the arena, Ironhorse pulled the royal couple aside and pointed to a park bench near a bleary-eyed popcorn vendor dressed up like a ballerina.  "I want you two to stay here."

          "Colonel, I need to see what it is they're doing in there," Blackwood argued.  "We have no idea what they might—"

          " _After_ we clear the area, Doctor, _then_ you can look."

          "Colonel, that's not the way I work.  You know that.  I have to see what they're doing.  It's the only chance to figure out—"

          "Damn it, Doctor," Ironhorse hissed in a low voice.  "We're in the middle of a _public_ park.  I have to shut this down ASAP.  That means without worrying about you. If it were isolated, I'd take you in, but I can't."

          Blackwood thought for a moment, swallowing his objections.  Ironhorse was right; they couldn't endanger the public.  He nodded.

          "Stavrakos, south side, cover Doctors Blackwood and McCullough."

          "Roger.  On my way."

          The sergeant reached them just as Coleman's voice announced.  "Heads up, they're rabbiting.  Heading north and west.  Repeat, north and west."

          "Damn," Ironhorse breathed, heading off at a run for the far side of the building.  "Keep them here," he ordered, hiking a thumb over his shoulder toward the two civilians as he passed Stavrakos.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          At the west exit Matthews and Peterson caught Geordie, Data and Worf in a crossfire with Goodson and Coleman, who'd crossed inside the arena to get behind the aliens.  The blended invaders were quickly reduced to frothing slime by the silenced H&K's the Omegans carried.  Ironhorse noted the trap as he passed.  Rounding the far side of the building he caught sight of Derriman in pursuit of the three remaining crew members.

 

  1. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *



 

          The older sergeant cursed silently as he and the Colonel pursued the three aliens.  At least they didn't seem to be armed.  A distant yell registered, but Derriman couldn't tell what direction it had come from in the crowd.  Alien reinforcements?

          He jerked right in mid-stride to keep from plowing into Spiderman and kept going.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Ironhorse reach him, then pull ahead slightly after twisting around two of the Three Bears.

          "Shit," Derriman breathed, pushing harder to catch up with the Colonel.  _How the hell does Ironhorse do it?  I'm gettin' too old for this!_

          The yell sounded again, closer this time, and Derriman squinted through the crowd, catching sight of the well-endowed centaur backpedaling on her roller-skate hooves while the heavy rear-end of her costume continued to pull her hind-end first   down a rather steep hill that intersected with the walk.

          "Ohhhhh," the sergeant groaned as the alien Riker noticed the situation a moment too late.

          "Whoa!  Whoa, mare!  Whoa!" came the now coherent yell from one of the two female cowboys who had escorted the centaur.

          Running headlong into the female's rear quarters, Riker executed a perfect  forward somersault, landing face first in a patch of trimmed grass making up part of the landscaping along the walkway.  The centaur squealed, spinning around in a complete circle and reaching out vainly for someone to stop her as Picard and Troi rushed past, followed closely by Colonel Grumpy.

          The two cowboys finally reached their rolling steed, grabbing her flailing arms in time to halt her further descent.

          "When I say whoa, I mean whoa, damn it!" one of the women stated firmly.  The threesome exploded into laughter.

          Derriman bypassed the women and caught the stunned Riker as he struggled to his feet.  With a deft maneuver, he wrenched the alien's arm back and shoved him into the stand of eucalyptus trees, then plowed in after him, yelling, "Ain't you got no respect, boy?"

          With a quick check for witnesses, Derriman shot the first officer and left him in the bushes to dissolve.  Re-emerging from the trees, he passed the three women, smiling broadly and dusting off his hands.  "I'm sure _he_ won't be botherin' you again," he said, tipping his hat.

          "Why, thank you, kind sir, a blessing on your house," the centaur said.

          "Thanks," Derriman grinned, then set out to catch the colonel.  "We're gonna need it."

          "Hi ho, Sleepy!" one of the women called.  "Away!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Hey, look!  There's a dwarf chasing captain Picard and counselor Troi!" yelled a young man in a Star Fleet uniform and Vulcan ears.  "Let's go!"

          Ironhorse silently cursed and ground his teeth together.  Just what he _didn't_ need!

          Picard and Troi shoved their way through a collection of cavalry and Native American-garbed young people.

          "Hey!  IDIC, remember?" one of the Sioux warriors yelled at the two Federation officers as they disappeared into a construction site clearly marked:  Soon to be Sea Worlds' Shark Walk.  Closed.  Do Not Enter.

          Following the pair, Ironhorse removed his Beretta and eased into the shadows as the pursuing Trekkers paused outside.

          "Hey, we're not supposed to go in there."

          "But those are our people."

          "Maybe ol' Jon Luc made a pass at Snow and peeved the dwarf," one volunteered.

          "Make it so," another chuckled.

          "Well, I'm _not_ going in there," countered a third.

          "Yeah, violates the Prime Directive… interfering with dwarf culture."

          The group erupted into a noisy disagreement.

          _Good_ , Ironhorse thought, moving further into the building.  _Maybe they'll argue long enough for the rest of the squad to get here and secure the area_.

          The Colonel took a deep breath, allowing his senses to focus on locating the two blended aliens hiding in the construction site.  The lights from the walkway, surrounding exhibits, and snack food vendors cast an eerie combination of colors into the half-erected structure, making it difficult for Ironhorse to see, but the dull _thub_ echoing from the colonel's left was clear and he ducked lower, moving toward the sound.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Troi inched down along the side of a clear wall that would one day separate the sharks from the visitors.  Picard was nowhere to be seen.  Ironhorse shadowed the woman/alien, until she paused and turned, then snapped the weapon into place and shot her twice in the forehead.  She slumped down, already dissolving before the Colonel moved on in search of the captain.

          A click on his radio informed the colonel that Derriman had joined him in the hunt.  He keyed the mike once, but not knowing where his enemy was, couldn't break noise discipline to speak to the sergeant.

          Moving farther into the center of the future exhibit, Ironhorse paused, catching the sound of a distant ringing.  The alien had found some stairs.

          He moved in on the sound, approaching at an angle until he located the metal steps.  One section led up to what would probably be a control area, given the amount   of wiring that terminated just above Ironhorse's head; going down, the stairs disappeared into blackness.

          A shuffle off to his right caused the Colonel to drop into a crouch and spin, the Beretta rising in his hands.  He jerked the weapon up, pointing it at the unfinished ceiling.  The young Vulcan stood, his eyes wide and shaking.  "Hey, hey, what are you doing?" he asked, tugging at the tip of one pointed ear.

          "Park security," Ironhorse lied smoothly.  "We've had an attempted robbery.  Did anyone else come in here?"

          The young man shook his head.  "Just me.  You mean Captain Picard's a common thief?"

          "Not so common," the Colonel murmured, stepping closer to the young man.  "I want you to stick with me, like glue."  The boy nodded.  "The 'captain' might be armed."

          Ironhorse knew he had to get the kid out of the building.  With his own cover blown, he pulled the radio from the inside of his baggy shirt and keyed the mike.

          "Derriman."

          There was a soft click in reply.

          "Lost the target.  Found a November Charlie.  I'm taking him out."

          There was a second click of acknowledgment.

          "Follow me," Ironhorse instructed again as he headed for the quickest route off of the site.

          Stepping into the night air, Ironhorse motioned for the young man to go, and he quickly scampered back to his friends, now gathered around a pretzel stand manned by Batman.  The Colonel noted that the Omegans covered the entrances to the site, and Stavrakos was still with Blackwood and Suzanne.  All secure, on the outside, at least.

          Ironhorse turned and headed back inside.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Derriman crouched along the run of drywall and silently cursed the fates for giving him this assignment two years shy of retirement.  On the other side of the wall, Picard was inching his way along, trying to reach a hole in the perimeter fence.  The sergeant knew if he paced the alien, he'd have a clear shot as it tried to squeeze through the opening.  He heard the alien stop and froze himself, waiting.  The sudden pressure on his back was unexpected, and the sergeant lunged forward, trying to regain his balance as half the wall collapsed on top of him.

          Derriman's hands came up instinctively to break his fall, the Beretta clattering away.  A strong grip snared the back of his shirt, yanking him to his feet.  A tearing sound caused his stomach to knot as the alien's third arm pushed past the red Starfleet uniform and seized the soldier's throat.

          Struggling to pull free, Derriman pummeled the alien's midsection with his fists, but it did nothing to stop the steady reduction of oxygen the three-digit hand was causing.  The edges of his vision faded to black, and his struggles grew feebler.  Picard grinned wickedly, reaching out with its human hand to begin the blending process.

          Derriman felt a spear of agony tear through his shoulder, and he opened his mouth to scream, knowing as he did that it was too late.  He was dead.  The cry died in his constricted throat as blackness clouded over his vision.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse heard the collapsing wall and sprinted toward the sound.  Sliding to a stop near the two figures, he watched the alien's hand penetrate Derriman's shoulder as the sergeant tried to scream.  The Beretta jerked in his hand before Ironhorse realized that he'd fired.

          The alien flew back, carrying Derriman with him.

          Bolting forward, Ironhorse pulled Derriman away before he was covered with the frothing slime of the decomposing alien.  Grabbing his radio, he barked, "Goodson, in here – now!"

          Setting the radio down, Ironhorse shoved the weapon under his belt where he could reach it easily.

          Derriman struggled for air, his bruised throat already beginning to swell.  Gently pulling the costume back, Ironhorse tried to inspect the entry wound, but even his careful administrations caused the sergeant to cry out in pain.  The injury reminded Ironhorse of a chemical burn – red, raw, and seeping.  Derriman moaned and tried to pull away.

          "Easy, John," Ironhorse soothed, reaching out to grip the man's arm.  "It's okay.  Medic's on the way."

          Goodson joined the pair, jerking the backpack that held his medical supplies off his shoulder.  "What's that?" he asked, nodding at Derriman's uncovered shoulder.

          "The alien had started to blend with him," the Colonel replied.

          Goodson paused.  "Is he—?"

          Ironhorse shook his head, standing.  "I don't think so."  The medic began to work.  "But draw a blood sample, just in case."

          "Yes, sir."

          Derriman rolled his head, and forced his eyes open.  "Colonel?" he whispered.

          Ironhorse crouched next to his friend.  "You're going to be fine," Paul reassured.

          "It had me, he—"

          "I know, John," the Colonel said softly, then his voice grew hard.  "He's nothing but slime now.  You just hang in there, you hear me?  I don't have time to break in another stubborn sergeant."  Keying the radio, Ironhorse turned away.  "Coleman?"

          "Ambulance is on the way, Colonel.  Park authorities are here with a medicar to take John to the entrance."

          "Roger, we'll be right out.  Take the squad and sweep the area.  Start a cleanup.  Have Blackwood and McCullough meet me at the medicar."

          Blackwood rested a hand on Ironhorse's shoulder while they watched the medicar drive off.  "He'll be fine, Colonel."

          Paul looked back at Blackwood and Suzanne.  They were concerned about Derriman, too, and that put a small smile back on his lips.  "Doctors, we need to go take a look at what they were doing at the arena."

          "Absolutely," Harrison replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "I don't get it," Suzanne said, sitting back on the concrete stage area.

          "Me either," Harrison grumbled.  "Why would they want to broadcast this during the show?"

          "Norton might be able to decipher what's on the tape," she offered, turning the cassette over in her hands.

          Blackwood looked up at the Colonel.  The soldier was anxious, waiting to hear some news on Derriman.  "I think you're right, Paul.  There's nothing else here."  Pushing himself up, he offered a hand to Suzanne and then tugged her to her feet.  "Let's go, Colonel."

          Ironhorse nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Huh, excuse me…  Hi."

          The threesome stopped and turned.  The buxom centaur and her two female cowboy escorts stood smiling behind them.

          "We were looking for Sleepy," one of the cowboys explained.

          Ironhorse dipped his head, then said, "I'm sorry.  He had— He had to leave."

          "Shoot," the second, thinner cowboy grumbled.

          "He helped us out earlier and we wanted to say thanks," the first explained.

          "Do you know him?" the centaur asked.

          "Yes, we do," Blackwood supplied with a smile.  They seemed like nice enough young women.

          "Great!"  The centaur pulled a piece of rolled paper out of a demin bag she wore over one shoulder.  "Could you give this to him?  It's just a little thank you, for a gallant dwarf."

          Suzanne accepted the proffered piece of paper.  "We'll make sure he gets it," she promised.

          "Thanks," the three women chorused, then faded back into the crowd.

          "What is it?" Blackwood asked.

          "Harrison," Suzanne chided.  "It's Sergeant Derriman's."

          "But it can't hurt to look.  After all, there were aliens here and we—"

          The expression on Suzanne's face told the astrophysicist she wasn't buying his line, but she was curious too, so she unrolled the paper, Ironhorse and Balckwood stepping closer to see.  They all chuckled.

          A caricatured likenesses of the surprised centaur was the central focus of the drawing.  She was framed on either side by the two female cowboys, both of them twirling their guns.  Flying through the air beyond the unusual mount was Riker, his arms and legs akimbo.  And, lastly, vaulting lithely over the centaur's hindquarters was Sleepy – a wide grin on his face as he got an unobstructed view of the horse/woman's cleavage.  The caption read:  "Hi-ho, Sleepy!  Away!"

          "I think he's going to enjoy this," Suzanne said with a grin.

          "Oh, I think that's a given," Ironhorse replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Well, what is it?" Blackwood asked, pacing in the basement lab.

          "I don't know," Norton explained for the umpteenth time.  "It took the Cray all day just to break the frequencies down.  Now it has to search for a match across all of the databases.  This is gonna take some time, Harrison."

          With a sigh, Blackwood leveled the man with a thin-lipped frustrated glare.

          "And don't try that with me, because it's _not_ going to work.  I can't make it work any faster than it already is, so _go away_.  I'll call you when I find something."

          Tossing up his hands in a gesture of defeat, Harrison stomped out of the room.

          Suzanne, who'd been watching the exchange from her lab, walked out to join Norton at the coffee pot.  "Pushy, isn't he?" she asked.  "Maybe royalty went to his head."

          "Don't you know it!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison paused at the stop of the stairs, waiting as Ironhorse entered the Cottage and closed the door.  "So, how's Sergeant Derriman doing?"

          "Fine," the Colonel said with a crooked smile.  "I just delivered the sketch."

          "And?"

          "Oh, I think he liked it," Ironhorse grinned, leading the way to the kitchen where he poured two cups of coffee.  He handed one to Blackwood.  "He told me he's been having dreams about that centaur.  He plans to have it framed and put up in his office."

          Blackwood chuckled, then grew more serious.  "Suzanne told me there's nothing to indicate any residual alien influence on the sergeant."

          Ironhorse nodded.  "But it was close, too damned close."  He caught Harrison's eye.  "I could feel it…"

          Blackwood nodded slowly.  It was a fate they all faced, and one they all dreaded.

          "The doctor said he'd be cleared for regular duty in another week."

          "Well, that's good news," Harrison said, leaning back against the counter.  "I wouldn't want to be a dwarf short out in the field."

          Ironhorse blushed slightly.  "Doctor—"

          "What?  It's true."

          "I know, but—"

          "Grumpy, Colonel?"

          "No, I'm _cranky_ , Doctor," Ironhorse growled.  "And don't you forget it!"


End file.
